Fade Away
by a. loquita
Summary: One possible take on the two weeks between the events that take place in the season 5 premiere and the start of the next episode. Kate deals with what has transpired, pulls herself back together, and she and Castle eventually get to the place they are at in the beginning of 5x02. Castle/Beckett.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Fade Away  
**Summary:** One possible take on the two weeks between the events that take place in the season 5 premiere and the start of the next episode. Kate deals with what has transpired, pulls herself back together, and she and Castle eventually get to the place they are at in the beginning of 5x02.  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairing:** Castle/Beckett  
**Spoilers:** Season 5 premiere "After the Storm"  
**A/N**: Thank you to mrspollifax for her beta work.

* * *

Kate spent forty-five minutes in her therapist's office earlier, which turned out to be a waste of time because she couldn't verbalize a single thing. At long last, she knows who was ultimately responsible for her mother's murder; she confronted him, threatened him, spoke her piece and left him alive when she walked away.

She sat in Dr. Burke's office pulling at a thread on the sleeve of her sweater and searching for something, anything to say. All she felt was a shiver over her skin and a dull ache in her chest. She blamed the air conditioner and wrapped the cardigan sweater around herself tighter.

Dr. Burke told her to take some time, that the two-week suspension could be a good thing, a chance to gain some perspective. She didn't tell him about Castle, and she's not sure why exactly because he's the only part of the past few days that makes sense. Kate even has a sneaking suspicion that the doctor would be proud of her. But she and Castle are keeping it to themselves, one hurried conversation in her hallway having decided that much at least, and she couldn't settle on whether her therapist should be the exception.

Since then Kate's been at home. She scrubbed the bathroom, vacuumed, did three loads of laundry, paid some bills, and currently is standing in front of the open pantry door considering the merits of alphabetizing canned goods.

"It's going to be a long suspension," she mutters to herself.

She sweeps up all the bits and pieces of evidence against Senator Bracken and puts them in a box, then turns toward the makeshift murder board. The pictures and unanswered questions taped up there on the window, with diffuse light filtering in from behind, represent her search for so many years. One by one, she takes them down and packs them into the box as well. Then she seals it with tape and leaves it in the middle of her dining room table.

Kate's not sure how long she's been sitting on the couch with the sound of the dishwasher scouring away in the background, as if it's a crowd cheering for the final chore having been accomplished. She sits in her clean house, everything around her in perfect order, and feels anesthetized. Her fingers are twisting around each other in her lap and her feet curl inside thick socks that are out of place in late spring weather.

Chaos has become so familiar over the years. She's not sure what to do with this… whatever it is? Numbness. Stillness. It's far more troubling than if she sat here crying.

There's a knock at the door.

* * *

Castle takes a deep breath after he knocks. He's not sure what he'll find on the other side. It's been a rollercoaster ride, so surely there should be throw up involved. First he'd thought he lost Beckett, and then it turned out that he didn't, as illustrated by nakedness and rolling around in the dark of his bedroom. Her features highlighted in the sharp, quick, nightclub-like strobe of lightning.

Then they're suddenly chasing down Johanna Beckett's murderer and Kate makes a deal with the devil for her life. She's been reinstated with the NYPD, but on suspension, and there was bold grabbing of him in the elevator followed by the celebratory dash out of the Twelfth yesterday, where they hardly made it back to his loft in time to tear each other's clothes off. The sex has been great; the rest has been a little confusing. But on balance, Castle will take it.

Kate left his place this morning with far less 'walk-of-shame' type sneaking off than was required last time. She promised to call him later. The day has passed and he's not heard a thing. He sent a text around three in the afternoon that went unanswered, and once Alexis was off again for the evening with some friends, Castle decided to just show up at Beckett's.

He can do that now, right? Not like he didn't all the time before the um, whatever it is that they're doing now.

The door opens and Beckett smiles at him, though he can tell it's taking some effort and only reaches about the halfway stage before disappearing again. Her eyes are flat and he can't read them.

She's been so strong though this, though it's not like she wasn't always strong when her mother's case bore itself, dreaded, again and again. But her performance this time around has been particularly stellar, with only a hint or two of what must be tearing her apart inside. And now that she finally has the answers she's been seeking, it wouldn't surprise anyone to see her lose it for once.

"Hey," he says gently.

"Come on in."

"I sent you a message earlier."

She's confused for a moment as she closes the door behind them. "I'm sorry, Castle. I forgot that I said I'd call."

"It's OK." He's just glad that she appears to be in one piece. He wasn't sure before, when they left the political event going their separate ways, if he should give Beckett some space or keep a close eye on her for any signs. Of what exactly, he's not sure, but signs nonetheless.

"I was…" She glances around her place. "I spent the day cleaning, and probably didn't hear the phone over the vacuum."

"No problem."

"Alexis OK?"

He recognizes what she's doing, but allows it. If she needs to do this first, their standard routine of checking in with each other on the daily and mundane, then he'll let her. Sooner or later, he has strategies to encourage her to unlock and open up. About a lot of things, how she's doing, what it felt like to face that man, not to mention their future. Now is not the time, and there's no rush.

"Alexis is fine. She's trying to punish herself, but Mother and I are insisting the hangover was punishment enough."

"Not like it will be her only one."

Castle tries for a shocked expression. "Have you met my kid? Chances are she's going to drink responsibly each and every time from now on, for the rest of her life. Despite my best efforts."

"How disappointed you must be."

"I know, right?"

It's going really well until his eyes land on the box sealed up and sitting on her dining room table. He doesn't think much of it for a second, until the absence of fragments of papers that had once been spread across that same table registers, and he understands what the box symbolizes.

He swings to meet her eyes and she looks almost guilty. "Spring cleaning," she says.

"You could have waited. I could've helped."

"I know." She crosses and sits down on a stool in front of her kitchen island. He's not sure if it's a move to put distance between them, or her legs can't hold her up under this topic of conversation.

"Kate," he follows, and sits down across from her, refusing to let this go. She can lean on him now, more than ever before. She has to know that, right? He's not just a sex toy. Not that he's complaining if she needs that too.

"I just…" She sighs, closing her eyes and shaking her head like she can't find the words. They're in there, but he gets the sense that they're rattling around so much that she can't dislodge them coherently. Suddenly he knows what he needs to do for her.

"It's OK," he tells her, because that's part one. It can't all be solved in a matter of days, and he's here to work though it with her, for as long as it takes. But for the moment, it's OK to be… merely OK.

"I need your help finding a secure place for the box," she says. "At some point we may want to spend more time trying to piece it together."

"But not right now."

Her shoulders sag in acceptance. "In the meantime, nobody can get to it and destroy it."

"Or trace where it is."

She looks up at him then. He knows that she's grateful for the support but there's something else that he can't read. Time to put his flash of inspiration regarding a plan into action. All he needs is about 15 or 20 minutes to place a call, among other things, and of course, to convince her.

"I'll take care of it in the morning. But for now, we're going to forget about all that."

She raises an eyebrow at him. Castle's sure she expects him to suggest they get naked. Is he that painfully apparent? Jeez. But it'll make the surprise that much better, he likes keeping Detective Beckett on her toes.

"I'm going to go." Now her expression changes, and yes, he's got her. He's got her good. "I'll be back in 20 minutes."

"Why?"

"Be ready to go out."

"Castle, I really–"

"Wait." He was prepared for her objections once she figured out where he might be leading. But his mind is made up and he's got all the counterpoint arguments prepared. "Hear me out before you say no."

"Fine."

She probably doesn't feel like going anywhere beyond her doorway, but he hopes she'll trust him that he'll take her somewhere comfortable. The other aspect of her worries he can certainly do something about. If they go anywhere trendy the gossip blogs will write about them the next day, and then the papers will get wind, and soon the entire city and all of the Internet will know. Like he'd let that happen before she was ready? Please.

"I know a family-run Italian place not far from here." He tells her. "The owner will let us sneak in the back, and they have these high-backed booths, so nobody will ever know we were there. And the food, Beckett, I'm telling you that you'll love this place."

"I don't know, Castle."

All that's left is truth. He can't pretend anymore, he more than likes her. They've taken a step forward, and yet. "Kate, I still haven't taken you on our first date."

Her eyes close at that. "You don't have to."

He stands. "I'll go and let you get ready, and then come back to pick you up, like a real date. Afterwards, I'll walk you back home, and if it went well, maybe I'll get a goodnight kiss at the door."

She opens her eyes and they dance for a moment, the way they do when she can't believe that she's letting him win her over and follow some crazy lead based on his theory alone. It's the only answer he needs. She's not back to herself yet, but she'll get there.

"I'll be back in 20," he promises. "Unless that's not enough time for you to get ready for your big date?"

"I can be ready."

"And I'll be on my best behavior and everything."

"There is such a thing?"

"Oh, funny." He smiles at her.

She gets up from the stool and leans in to him. As her lips meet his, her hands ghost over his biceps, like she's not sure where to put them. Her kiss is gentle and promising but not full of the kind of passion she's shown him these last couple of days and nights.

He pulls back after a second, "You're supposed to do that afterwards."

"We'll see."

Teasing Kate is a good thing, he decides, and it's on that note he decides to leave her. Just for a little while.

* * *

TBC (Five parts in total, all to be posted very soon as I find time for final editing)


	2. Chapter 2

Kate hears someone at the door for the second time tonight as she descends the stairs from her room. She's wearing a pink and orange floral knee-length dress that she got while hitting the outlets with Lanie a few weeks ago. Put together with eye makeup, killer heels, and lipstick a shade darker than she'd ever dare wear to work, she's ready.

There are butterflies in her stomach and that is beyond ridiculous. She firmly tells them to cut it out. It's just Castle and it's just dinner and oh dear lord. When she opens the door to him, there they go again.

He holds out a bunch of flowers. They probably came from the corner drugstore, but they're bright and cheerful and he really shouldn't have bothered. But leave it to Castle to do all he can to play into the pretense.

She smiles at him. "Thank you."

He's brought her flowers before, a couple of times actually. But those were expensive ones from a professional florist arranged with artistic flair. Somehow she likes these better because a florist didn't pick them out, Castle did. A few of the blooms might be considered slightly past their prime, but holding up. The arrangement is more thrown together than planned, but maybe that's why it works. It reminds her of them.

"It's the best I could do on short notice," he says.

"They're perfect." He seems to get that she's being genuine and not simply polite.

After the flowers are in a vase, they walk the five blocks to the restaurant, her arm linked with his. It's a crisp night in the city, still early enough in the summer that the temperature drops a fair amount after the sun goes down. It's then that Kate realizes she's not quite so shivering cold as she has been. Her fingers are chilled, even the one in her coat pocket, but the numbness is at least gone.

She's trying not to analyze her body's reaction to Castle too much beyond the obvious when they arrive. Castle guides her off the sidewalk between two brick buildings and up to a back screen door that looks like the phrase "it's seen better days" was applicable several decades ago. There's a large fan built into the wall above and it's whirling at a pace that makes the fan blades invisible, working to pump out the heat of the kitchen inside.

Castle's just swung the screen door open when a short, stocky man with a thick accent greets them. He's wearing a white undershirt, pants with a wild spotted print on them, and an apron covers the ensemble. He's got all of three hairs left on top of his head but extra thick eyebrows that make up for it. Kate bites her lip; it's hard not to imagine that a cartoon character was created based on this guy.

The man starts in Italian and then switches to English. "Good to see you my friend!" And with that, he gives Castle a hug, though his short arms hardly circle the other man.

"Lucas, this is Kate."

Lucas takes Kate's hand to kiss it. "Here is the exquisite that inspired the Mona Lisa. Before my eyes, _mia bella_."

Kate figures there are a good number of female customers that he's used this very line on before, but it's still sweet. "Nice to meet you, Lucas."

The place is exactly as Castle described. They're led through the kitchen that's heavy with the scent of garlic and onions and out into the restaurant. Kate can see rows and rows of booths, while the walls of the restaurant are covered with pictures of the Rat Pack and former NYC mayors. There are some wood tables up front where people are obviously standing around waiting. It's then that Kate realizes it's the weekend at peak dinner hour and they've just walked in expecting a table.

Before she can say something, they're led to a spot at the back near the kitchen that faces away from the bustle of the crowd and the windows. The booth is horseshoe-shaped, and the high back and bench are covered in red pleather padding, the kind that reminds her of kitschy diners. The table has a real white tablecloth on it, though, and a candle, so the overall effect is inviting.

Castle was right; the booth is cozy and private. What she hadn't thought about is that it means Castle can scoot in and sit right up next to her, close like they're on a… She shakes her head; she's got to get her mind wrapped around the fact that they're doing this now. The old kneejerk reactions are going to take some time to let go of.

"Everything OK?" Castle asks, probably misinterpreting her.

"This is great."

They aren't given menus. Castle explains that Lucas will bring whatever he wants even if they tried to order off the menu. Her first bite of calamari bruschetta tells her Castle wasn't kidding; the food is amazing. They drink Chianti and are presented with course after course of pasta, salad, and fish. Kate's lost count, and the last few rounds she's hardly had a bite or two before they were whisked away.

"Don't worry," Castle says, after catching her watching a plate of veal piccata go mostly untouched back to the kitchen. "It won't go to waste. He just wants you to try it; the rest will get boxed up and sent home with us. We'll have leftovers for days."

Over dinner they talk more about Alexis and her upcoming trip to Europe with Martha. Castle brushes Kate's thigh under the table at the mention of several weeks alone in his loft, and what in the world will he do with all that time? But other than that, he's behaved to a fault. They talk about the latest chapter he's working on, the threat of a cab driver strike in the city, and other safe topics. It's exactly what she needs, and she guesses Castle knows it.

There's a haggle over the check between the two men, with Castle insisting that it's not enough. Lucas waves his arms and speaks in a mix of languages before Castle gives in and hands over his credit card. Then he slips a $100 bill under an empty wine glass on the table before they slide out of the booth with the bag of takeout containers and leave.

On the way home they are an anonymous couple walking along the sidewalk, and Kate decides to hold his hand.

"How do you know Lucas?" she asks, thinking it's another safe topic, until Castle stiffens next to her.

"I met him through Patterson."

"That's it? Castle, you can make up stories more interesting than that off the top of your head. Lucas obviously cares about you."

Castle takes a breath, then slides his hand from hers and puts his arm around her instead as they pass a corner coffee shop closed for the night. "Maybe it's a story that I don't want to tell?"

He's trying for light and teasing. But she knows him too well and he's not doing a valiant enough job pulling it off.

"Tell me anyway?"

As the blocks pass he describes how Lucas' entire family are mystery fans. Patterson met them when Lucas' wife was sick with cancer, the first time. Patterson went and read to her in the hospital, and then asked Castle to do the same.

"That's sweet," Kate starts, but Castle cuts her off. As if she shouldn't get her hopes up about the end of the tale.

He stumbles a bit over the part about the cancer coming back and the wife dying and their little girl losing her mom. Kate understands why he was reluctant, but instead she's focused on all that the two best-selling mystery authors did to help lift the immigrant family's spirits afterward. The signed books for the daughter, the college tuition fundraiser.

Castle can be egotistical and obnoxious and oblivious to others needs sometimes, but then he goes and does secret, kind, generous things for people. As they arrive at her door, Kate turns and presses her lips to his.

Her hands curl into the front of Castle's jacket. The kiss deepens and she can't help the sound that escapes as he presses impossibly closer to her. The spicy scent of his cologne, the one he uses everyday and not one reserved for showing off on special occasions, surrounds her as much as his arms do. Reminding her this is grounded in the everyday, with history and meaning beyond an ordinary first date.

"Castle," she somehow breaks off the kiss, resting her cheek against his. His fingers are in her hair, skimming her scalp, twisting around her curls. "Inside. Before my neighbors get a show."

Castle smirks at her. "Inviting a man inside on a first date? Katherine Beckett, why I never…" And suddenly it all shifts, the heaviness of the mood, the undertow of daughters without mothers, the need for him to chase away the cold. It flees to a corner to hide. At least for a time.

She playfully smacks his chest. "Just for that, I'm making you get me coffee in the morning."

"Don't I always?"


	3. Chapter 3

It's been two days since Castle has seen Beckett. He had a couple of appearances for the launch of the paperback version of _Heat Rises_ and otherwise has been preoccupied getting Alexis and his mother packed and ready for their trip. He loves them but checks his watch one last time before silently vowing to kill them both if they don't get their butts in gear. As it is, they'll barely make it to the airport in time to catch their flight, and that's only if they don't hit traffic or too many red lights.

Alexis descends the stairs with another bag slung across her back.

"More?" Castle asks. They're supposed to be "backpacking" across Europe, but leave it to his two gals to do that only with the help of bellhops to haul all the massive luggage around on their behalf.

"This is Gram's last one."

Castle takes it from Alexis. "Oh my god, is this filled with rocks?"

"I think it might be shoes?"

Martha makes her appearance finally, and Castle checks his watch again.

"You never know," she says. "I need to be prepared. I could meet a prince of some small country who decides that he can't live without me."

"And then you'll move into his castle in Europe and out of my castle?" He wags his eyebrow at the pun for Alexis' sake. She just rolls her eyes.

"I'm graciously giving you something to hope for, Richard."

The car service downstairs calls for the third time, and Castle reassures the driver that yes, they are coming down any second. Then turns and hugs them both at the same time, one arm around each. "Promise me that you'll have fun," he says.

Behind them there's a knock. Martha gives Castle a look as she answers the door. A startled Kate Beckett on the other side says, "Martha? Hi."

"Hello, dear."

"Detective Beckett and I are going to lunch," Castle explains. But his daughter and mother hardly blink an eye at the concept. They're both busy running through a last minute checklist to make sure that they have everything. Martha declares them ready; if they have forgotten something they'll simply have to buy it.

"Also," Castle feels the need to point out, "promise me that you'll only max out two of my credit cards, not all of them."

Alexis squeezes him one last time. "You sure you can't come?"

"I've got work to do, and besides, I think this needs to be a girls-only thing."

"OK, but we'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. But I will talk to you every day and get a full report." Castle adds a kiss on the top of Alexis' head. His ladies head out toward the elevator and he waves as the doors close behind them.

Castle steps back inside the loft. "Hi," he says cheerfully.

"Hi back." Beckett's perched on the arm of one of the living room chairs. "I didn't think I was early?"

"No, they were late."

"Have you told them?"

It takes him a moment, then he realizes what she's referring to. He thought they'd decided to keep this to themselves for a while? Otherwise he would have invited her over earlier. She could've helped referee the extensive "Rain boots or no rain boots?" debate from 45 minutes ago. He's sure flashing her gun around might have solved it quicker.

"Not yet," he says.

"Sure?" She pushes off the chair and follows him into the kitchen. "The look Martha gave me, it was like she knew."

"How could she?"

"You tell me."

Enough of this, he's not interested in talking about his mother when there were far more fun things to do alone with Beckett. Besides, he doesn't want Beckett holding on to any lingering doubts that he's embarrassed by this relationship, or that he's unsure it's going to work out past a handful of dates. "I'm going to sit them down as soon as they're back from the trip and fill them in. There wasn't really time before."

"OK." She changes subjects, "Did you find a place yet?"

"All taken care of, and I have something for you." She follows him back to his office.

Castle had his lawyer set up a false identity that can't be traced to him. It's in this new unassuming name that a rented climate-controlled storage space in Jersey has been arranged. For the moment, only the lawyer and the two of them know about it. Castle tells her about the instructions he's set up with the lawyer if anything should happen to one of them or someone they care about. He hands over a code for her to memorize, should she ever need to get into the space and take out the contents without him.

She holds the paper in her hand for a moment, and then sinks into a chair, letting the scrap float onto his desk.

"It's come to this." She breathes deep and lets it out slowly, rustling wisps of hair as it's released. "The sum total of all of it; my mother's murder, wanting justice, the years I spent sacrificing for the answers. It all can be put inside a box and sit inside a concrete space in Jersey. Waiting for what, and for how long?"

"Kate." How does he even begin?

"Don't." She stands and steps over to him.

"Whatever you need." It's all he can offer. He'd spend his fortune if it came to it, doesn't she understand by now? He's been standing here wanting, waiting, all these years. He's not a patient man, but she's been his only exception. He's done the impossible and now all he wants is to ask her to do is the same. To finally see that the possible, the exceptional, it's here, right here between them.

Her arms draw him into a hug. "You've already done more than enough. Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

Kate slips out of the loft shortly after dawn, leaving Castle a note that she'll be back soon. She really needs a run, and not the quick kind to do its job working off the extra calories of a slice of cheesecake last night for dessert. The kind that pushes her to the physical limits and makes her feel both alive and spent.

She intends to start slow, give her muscles a chance to warm up, but there's a need inside to break out and she sprints. First to the green trash bin ahead on the left side of the path, then further still around the bend, past the teenager on a bike, and she's gasping for air. It's too much too soon and she knows that she'll pay later but it's almost like sex with Castle, she can't seem to pace herself. She can't do less than totally consumed.

It's desperate and destructive. But any sign of this desperation is kept closely hidden in an internal world of her absolute rule, and maybe that's the appeal. Maybe she hasn't changed as much as she thought that she did these last five or six days.

It's all of these things that she'll blame later when, in quiet moments, she contemplates how it went wrong. Exactly what order, when, how? She'll pick it apart. But she's slow to react, that's all that matters, and he gets the drop on her.

The attacker grabs her in a chokehold from behind, mid-stride, like she ran into a wall throat first. Kate's already oxygen-starved lungs and muscles cry out, demanding she fix this. But her assailant yanks her against his own body, easily six inches taller and another 150 pounds or more heavier than her own.

She doesn't have to see it to know what that cool, hard object is. The one that is pressed against her ribs for a moment, right where the tank top she's wearing rises a little above the waistline of her yoga pants.

He yanks the iPhone from where it's strapped to her arm and her earphones fly in the air after the movement like ribbons of history. The guy pockets it, and then points the cold steel into her side again, this time harder. At that angle she'd maybe bleed out slowly enough for someone to come to her aid, but he's just made sure that she'll have no phone to call for help. No matter, she calculates that the first shot is only to disable her before he puts a second and third bullet into her chest or head.

She gasps for a breath, twisting to fight him but she's got no leverage. Her quads, shins, and other muscles burn and knot up from her too-hard run, and it's the worst case scenario.

This is it, she thinks.

Her bluff didn't work and Bracken sent another hired gun to kill her. One in a long line, over and over, until her luck runs out. That sick feeling returns, the one that knew she'd never be safe. There were no edges of the world where sanctuary could be found, no matter the cost or energy, and Castle shouldn't have this ending on his conscience. If she could go back, she'd never have given him hope.

"Cash?" the guy demands with another jab of the weapon.

What? She's jarred from the depths of her preparation to die, and only then notices the shake to the guys' hand. He's strong but uncoordinated. Is he really just a junkie? Junkies are typically skinny, this one could be new and a little too adventurous so he's after his score in the daylight.

"Left pocket," she says, angling for a chance to swing around on him. But before she can switch gears from morbid thoughts to action, he's gone with the contents of her pocket that include a $20 bill and a credit card. Plus her phone he already had.

It's nothing. It's a win, she tries to tell herself.

She walks over the small rise in the grass and sits down; her shaking limbs need a moment. Leave it to New York for not a single person to notice or care. She could shriek Bloody Mary right now and they'd not even turn a head. It used to be something that gave her pride.

Kate lays back in the grass, letting the tears flow down her cheeks.

Rivers. If Castle were here, that's what he'd call them. But he'd use some fancy, descriptive prose to make it sound much more romantic, and that the heroine in the end overcomes.

She shudders, weeping along with the memory of coldness. The cold steel of guns, cold of dirt tossed on a grave, cold freezer where they almost met the end in each others' arms, and cold links between her fingers that held up a swing. Rain washing over her head, absolving her of sin.

She finally stills as the catharsis ends. Above, the sun warms her cheeks and dries the tear tracks. Kate takes a tattered breath. Enough of this.

She stands and walks out of the park where she spots a couple of traffic cops stopped at a hot dog stand. She gives them her badge number and asks if they could do her a favor and radio into a Detective Ryan at her Precinct. They offer to do one better and give her a lift.

* * *

It was only a single credit card, some cash, and her phone. She stops on Robbery's floor inside the Precinct to fill out the paperwork anyway, and she's nearly finished when Demming steps over.

"Something to do with a case?" he nods toward the papers and pen in her hand.

"No, I was mugged."

"You OK?" His tone changes to one full of concern. It triggers something inside, a bit of memory perhaps from a couple of years ago.

"I'm fine, Tom." Kate says, trying to put on a convincing smile. She's not, but he is no longer the one who gets to know that. "I thought I'd file a report on the one-in-a-million chance that I'm the lucky gal whose stuff actually turns up someday."

"You never know." He returns the smile. "Despite rumors, we're pretty good at our jobs down here."

The conversation sputters out and a long awkward silence looms. Demming clears his throat. "I'm seeing someone," he says.

"That's great."

He nods, puts his hands in his pocket. "You?"

"No, not at the moment."

"Really? Funny, I always thought that you… Castle."

"Me and Castle?" Did she say that a little too high-pitched? And did the laugh seem a little too forced? "That is funny."

"No, I mean, he's here."

* * *

Ryan had called about forty minutes ago as Castle was getting out of the shower and explained what had happened. Beckett was fine, she was in the Precinct now, and Ryan was happy to drive her home except that he just caught a break in a case he's working and he has to head out to the Bronx. Could Castle come get her?

What Castle did not expect to find is Beckett sitting at a desk in Robbery and her former boyfriend leaning in talking to her. He'd caught a few lines of their conversation before either of them noticed that Castle was making his way toward them. When Beckett turns, there's no trace of guilt on her face. Not that he expected it, and not that he expected there to be a reason for it, but it's still reassuring.

"All finished," she says to Demming, and a flash of a smile appears for his benefit.

Nope, Castle is not going to get jealous over this. Really.

They make their way out of the building and onto the sidewalk. Castle hails a cab and they slide in together.

"I just didn't want him to know, OK?" she finally says.

"I didn't ask." He feels the need to point that out. Then wonders, "Embarrassed about us?"

"No."

OK, he didn't think so. But she's still not looking at him and instead is watching the buildings pass by outside the side window of the taxi.

* * *

Kate's soaking in her bathtub while Castle is downstairs, theoretically figuring out what they might order for dinner. It's been a long day, and she almost suggested that they skip spending the night in each other's company. Then she decided not to go that far, and instead to take an hour to herself to soak and to think. Castle didn't say a word.

He's been off kilter. Or maybe it's been both of them collectively that's been off all day? Ever since he picked her up at the Precinct, it's been weird. She wishes she could blame it all on Castle seeing her with Demming, but that's likely only a tiny part of it. It's that Kate denied being in a relationship, and Castle is taking that to heart.

She's been struggling to come up with a way to explain it to Castle. It's not that she's embarrassed or afraid of what people will think. It's simply that if anyone finds out, then they can't be partners. Why is she having such a hard time saying it out loud? The sex has been great, but the opening up and talking about things has been lagging behind, and maybe that's what this evening should be about. It's why she changed her mind in the end and didn't send him away.

It's also why she's doing this with him now, not a year ago, because after putting in the work, she's better equipped to hopefully do this right.

Kate gets out of the tub and pulls the plug, watches the water funnel down the drain as she dries herself off. If this were any other man, she'd carefully consider her wardrobe options, even for a night in. If in no other way, this thing with Castle is different because she opts for a comfortable pair of jeans and an old, faded, football t-shirt. She knows he won't care either.

She can easily imagine her life going forward, in a way that she could never do with other men before. Coming home to him and changing into something comfortable like this. She descends the stairs and Castle is flipping the channels on her TV. He's got a beer open in front of him on the coffee table. She can imagine it, she's working on trying to believe in it.

"Hey, can we talk?" She sits down next to him. Only then does she see the array of takeout menus that he's selected and set out on the table as well.

"Sure." He mutes the TV.

"I just," she takes a breath. They're doing this, she reminds herself, he's not a man she's sleeping with while keeping at arm's length. "The NYPD has a policy that partners can't be romantically involved."

Kate's clearly thrown him. He must have thought the follow up to the Demming incident was going to spur a totally different kind of conversation. "I'm not sure that I follow what you're saying, Beckett?"

"Either we stop doing what we're doing," she's quick to point out, "and I don't think that's an option." She doesn't need him thinking that for a second. "Or we quit being partners, so that we can be together."

"OK," he says, still not getting it.

"Or," she shrugs a little. "Nobody but us knows. Including the boys and Lanie. I'm not sure it's going to be all that feasible, but it's the only option that I can think of."

"So it wasn't about Demming? And you keeping your options open?"

"No, Castle. My answer would've been the same no matter who in the Precinct asked the question."

"You like it, admit it," Castle says suddenly. "You like it, even now after this," he wags a hand back and forth between them, to indicate this new phase of their relationship. "You like having me as your partner."

"It's for your books. I know that you want to keep working with me for your research." OK, that's a lie. That's old Kate Beckett talking, and he knows it. He grins. Damn him.

"Kate." His hand cups the curve of her cheek. "How long ago do you think this stopped being about my books? For both of us?"

Oh, this man. This wonderful, sweet man who has wormed his way in with moments like this. When he makes her feel like a kid again reading fairytale stories by flashlight under her covers, and pain doesn't exist in that magical world.

She reaches over and takes his free hand. "OK. I'll admit that you're like a puppy that I've gotten used to following me around. So yes, I'd like to keep my partner." She can give in, but please, she's not going to go too far. Somebody has to keep Castle in check. "And you're _occasionally _useful."

"Wait, are you telling me that you're sexually attracted to dogs? Because that's so wrong, Kate."

"Shut up, Castle."

"Shutting up now." He leans in to kiss her, grinning like she's given him the moon.


	5. Chapter 5

Kate's half leaned into Castle, her head resting somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder. They're on his couch watching TV, some Boris Karloff horror marathon on AMC. Her legs are tucked up underneath her and she's comfortable. It's a boring old night in, like hundreds of thousands of other couples all across the city are doing right now on a weeknight.

Normal.

Which is why it's a little weird. She could just let go and give in, relax into Castle's warmth, try to pay attention to the movie. He's probably going to want to dissect the plot holes with her later. She should relish having this, having him, finally. She could even fall asleep here, or better yet, start seducing him under the throw blanket that's tossed across both their laps until they're both horizontal on the couch making out and he's got his hands down her pants. All of these are great options, and nice ordinary ones too.

However, Kate can't shut her mind off. Her internal dialogue is chewing through and processing all the changes that have happened lately, the revelations, the trying to rebuild her life in a new way, all of it.

Maybe it's understandable, and she should give herself a break for not being able to stop and relax. Staying in motion is what has kept her sane for over 10 years. Or maybe it's the normal thing; she's pretty sure that she can't do normal.

With that, the panic starts rising. She shifts, but it doesn't stop clawing up from her belly and into her lungs where it feels like it's choking her.

It's the old fears. She's not normal and never will be, and god, Castle doesn't deserve that. She'll never be safe, or if she is, it's only because she can't have something in her life that is breakable. Something that will hurt if it ends, or even worse, someone who gets killed because of her. Her quest, her blind, stupid, relentless hunt for justice that only led to snipers and rooftops and bombs exploding. And a man that stood across from her in a hotel kitchen, making a promise that Kate's not sure she believes. A random mugging in the park had her convinced it was all over, and she's left imagining when the day actually comes.

She's gasping for a breath now, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, and Castle's focused solely on her, movie forgotten. She needs to get away; she can't stand to have him see her like this, fracturing apart. That fear in his eyes, mixed in with his 'I would do anything to make this right for you' look is only going to make it worse.

She pushes back from him, but Castle's not letting that happen. He grips her shoulders.

"Come here," he says. He's going to fight her, even dirty if he has to, she knows it. So Kate gives up and lets him pull her to his chest, cradling her there while her hot tears come in wave after wave. She gulps in air between, trying to right this ship and stop.

She thought she'd gotten it all out if her system that day in the park. She's apparently a waterworks now, but at least it's a step above numb. It finally slows, the growing exhaustion leaching away the panic, and she can take a deep breath.

"Better?" he asks. His hands rub her back in slow circles. His lips are pressing gently against her hairline, probably the only part of her that he can reach given the way she's pasted too tight against him.

She's not sure what to say. Sorry? Oops? Wish you hadn't seen that?

"I always thought…" No, maybe that's not a whole other can of worms she should open right now. She's got enough worms all over the place already.

"What?" But leave it to Castle not to let it go; hasn't she learned by now?

"It's just that over the years when I thought about this and us—"

"Whoa. Stop right there. You imagined us getting together? How many times? And who was naked first in each and every scenario?"

She knows what he's doing. Despite that, a laugh bubbles up inside. "Castle."

"We could compare notes, is all I'm saying. In detail."

She leans back a little so she can look into his eyes. He's giving her a chance to lighten the mood, to roll her eyes at him if that's what she needs. He's giving her an out. Thing is, maybe she doesn't want as many 'outs' anymore. She wants 'all in' with him. Even if she gets panic attacks from time to time, she knows what she wants, and it's time that he knew it too. It's time to finally deal with the last part of what's holding them back.

"You want to know why I didn't take you with me when I confronted Bracken." It's been written in his guarded eyes since that day nearly two weeks ago, and there it is again. She continues, "I didn't want you to be a part of it, Castle."

"Any more than I already was?"

She pulls even further back from him, only because she needs some room to breathe. There's no turning back now. "Were you afraid that I would kill him?"

He flips it to her. "Were you?"

She doesn't answer, instead decides that she'll try to get him to understand. That's all Castle wants, is simply to understand people. To understand the story of her, and maybe someday, of them.

"If someone were threatening Alexis, and it came down to a choice between risking her, or killing him to save her, which would you chose?"

"I think that I'd do what any parent would. Which is to do anything it takes to protect my own child."

She nods. "In the same way, I've taken lives in the line of duty to protect my team, including you, and I would do it again if I had to."

"I'm sensing a 'but' here…"

"But she's already dead, Castle. I can't go back and protect my mom, no matter how much I wish that I could. Killing him doesn't change anything. It doesn't save her life. It would be nothing more than revenge."

He runs the flat of his palm up and down her arm, slow and soothing. "I get it."

"If I brought you with me," Kate can't help the shuddering inhale, "then he'd know." A look of confusion crosses Castle's face, but he doesn't request explanation from her, just waits. "He probably already guesses that you're my Achilles heel, Castle. You're the one piece of leverage he can use against me, to break me, to hand over the file, whatever. But if I brought you with me, he'd know for sure. I can't... I can't find you bloody and tied to a chair because he..."

She can't finish, but she doesn't need to. She's painted enough of a picture that his writer's imagination can do the rest. He pulls her back in, nearly crushing her against his chest as she works to keep back the sob that's threatening to rise from her core up into her throat and down her cheeks.

She doesn't have to finish because she could see in his eyes that dawning of comprehension that he's been waiting for her to grant him. She lay there that morning in the dark, next to his sleeping form, and she planned her next move. She didn't bring Castle with her not because he wasn't important to this crusade, but because he was. Because her plan needed to ensure his safety as well as her own. Because she wasn't going to kill Bracken, she was going to let him live. She was choosing life, her own, and this life that they are now building together, instead of the half-lived one that she's been teetering both of them on the edge of for the last four years.

"You're wrong," Castle finally says. "When you said before that killing him wouldn't change anything. It would change one very important thing."

"What?" she asks.

"Sex with you would have to wait until conjugal visits only."

She laughs a little at that, "I'm touched, really."

"Kate, you're not about revenge. That's not who you are, and we'll get justice one day."

"I know. I won't stoop to his rat-infested, sewer-filled level."

"Nice metaphor there," he replies.

"You like that one?"

"Very descriptive. You're hot when you do that."

She smiles up at him from her comfortable place against his chest, and for the first time in a long while, it feels like she's not forcing it just for his benefit. It feels good. She's really doing this, open and honest, and full disclosure. "You once told me that I deserved to be happy and I deserved to be loved. I didn't believe you then."

"But you do now?"

"Yes," she says. "Despite present evidence that might suggest otherwise," she swipes a knuckle across her cheek. "I am happy."

His expression softens, brightens as he says, "And you are loved."

"So are you."

There's a beat, a moment where this could all get way more intense than she's ready for, and him probably as well.

She trails her hand over the stubble on his chin, past his ear, and into the short hairs at the back of his neck. "What do you say we quit watching the movie and make out instead?"

"I'd say that you don't have to ask me twice. I wasn't paying attention to it anyway."

* * *

The sun is beaming in between where the curtains weren't quite closed in the middle. It's sufficient for Castle to assume it must be late enough in the morning that he should get out of bed, even if he has nowhere particular to go.

Castle rolls over and oh. It's maybe going to take a little while to get used to sharing his bed with someone again on a regular basis. It's been a while. That thought makes a memory shake loose; maybe he should tell Beckett that he didn't actually sleep with that flight attendant last month. The blond wanted to, but Castle couldn't find it in himself to take the entire charade that far.

A smile spreads slowly across his lips, remembering that those haunted days are over. He and Beckett have turned a corner and they've earned what they have now. He scoots closer to Kate, careful not to disturb her sleep, at least not yet. He snakes a hand around her waist and nuzzles his nose into her hair spilling out across her pillow.

She's on her side, facing away from him but he can tell from her breathing that she's waking up, becoming aware of him.

On a sigh she says his name, "Castle." God, she sounds wonderful in the morning, her voice a little thicker and more velvety than it is during the day.

"Mmm," he hums into her ear.

And she feels wonderful too. Under the blanket he slides his hand up from her waist and his fingertips flirt with the underside of her breasts. She's relaxed in her half-awake state, and it's so different from two weeks ago when she was shell-shocked and shivering and all he could do was hold on and hope she came out on the other side of it.

He'll never tire of touching her, of wanting her, and it's so much more than just the physical that he craves. He needs to add that to his growing mental list of things he should probably tell her now that they're doing this thing. Dating? Terminology is on the 'talk about soon' list as well. They've gotten through the heavy stuff over these past couple of weeks, and now it's time for some of the fun conversations. Like what his pet name for her is going to be? The more it makes her roll her eyes, the better.

He's got a mental 'talk about it much later on' list too. About all the ways that she's unlike anything else and that this time it's unlike anything else for him. It's got words like 'eternal' on that list. But that's way off.

Right now he wants to make slow, lazy love to her. He's pretty sure it's not going to take a lot of coaxing to get her to agree to it. They're going back to work tomorrow, so this is the last morning for probably a long while that he can keep her in bed late.

Tomorrow it's back to the routine, and he knows they're going to be OK. They're warm, safe, and together, and that's the biggest comfort anyone can ask for after a storm passes.

~End.


End file.
